The finals of the Dublin Lawn Tennis Council floodlight leagues turned into an unfortunate night of disappointment for the Trinity men’s 1st and 3rd teams as they both came out on the wrong side of 2-1 results.

Whenever the world’s toughest sports are discussed, one can be guaranteed that the likes of rugby, hurling and boxing will be mentioned. According to ESPN and Sports Illustrated, however, these games pale in comparison to one sport. That sport is water polo.

Saturday 29 October witnessed the Dublin University Harriers and Athletics Club (DUHAC) host their fiercest rivals, UCD, in the Colours Road Relays – the long-standing 1-2-2-1 mile races around the half-mile loop of campus.

The biggest event in ladies’ golf got underway on the morning of Friday 23 September. Day one of the Solheim Cup, taking place for the first time in Ireland, would be an enthralling affair, as the home European side looked to reclaim the trophy they have not held since 2003. Jack Nickalus’ course at the scenic Killeen Castle is the venue for this year’s tournament, with many famous faces in the world of ladies’ golf taking to the course in the contest of continents.

By Killian McCarthy

When the Championship rolls round and the quality of your summer is reliant on the Limerick hurlers, you’re faced with a stark choice: optimism or suicide.

The fact that the former prevails could be mistaken for a triumph of the human spirit. Really, it’s just belligerence. It’s the stubborn pursuit not of silverware nor of history but of those days when form, skill and quality of touch count for less than heart, commitment and the same belligerence that filters down from  the terraces. Those isolated, fleeting days that stand as vindication for annual heartbreak.

And though the ledger is blotted with chances lost, hopes dashed and more calamitous defeats than the French military and although stories of dry balls, crooked refs and wails of “if only…” abound like in no other county, there are days that make it all worthwhile. Memories, goosebumps, glory days treasured so that hope springs eternal.

“It looks closed to me, Dad”.

He smiled because he knew better. Half a century of championship Sundays stood against my dozen. He knew they were serving, and long before their licence allowed it; this pub by Kent Station was packed to the rafters with Limerick men (and their sons), filling up for what lay ahead. Our sea of green would meet their red tide by the banks of the Lee and the omens, as usual, were bad.

Not bleak (never bleak) but a caning from Clare isn’t easily forgotten, not least after barely a month. Rumours of ferocious training were merely whispers of what might subsequently bear fruit (but usually didn’t). There had been clamours for the manager’s head and demands for so-and-so to be dropped so whatshisname could deliver us to a sporting Promised Land that the barren years had made into myth.

But all that was lost on me as we as we set out for the Páirc. May ’01. A summer’s day, an Irish summer’s day: overcast. But it promised to clear (the sun always shines in Cork, boy) and so it did, slowly, as we turned onto the long straight road that leads to the Ground. Monotonous though it is for the hordes of supporters, the colour, the banter and inveterate slagging somehow shorten the trip.

That unique chip van smell, nauseating and intoxicating in equal measure wafted along on the gentle breeze that blew towards the Blackrock End. Touts did their best to turn a few pounds while “3 card monte” relieved some revellers of what change they had in their rapidly-lightening pockets. The senses were bombarded and one summer shy of my teenage years I wished every Sunday was like this.

But all this stood as the starter. The main course was yet to play out in front of 40,000 fans in the cauldron cois Laoi. The terraces rumbled and shook through the Soldier’s Song, apt for the warfare that was about to unfold. Timber flew and the crowd roared in solidarity. Limerick wanted this and the sliotar was an afterthought, at least until it was thrown in.

Once that formality had been dispensed with, the visitors set about erasing the memory of every defeat, cruel or otherwise, back to ’97. First to the ball or first to the shoulder, success was measured as much in broken hurleys as it was on the scoreboard, reading 0-4 to 0-2. Limerick leading. Limerick on top. Limerick surely going to blow it.

But no. With 11 minutes gone James Butler gets away from John Browne, solos, bears down on goal and rifles one across Dónal Óg. I’m told he never saw it until it hit the net.

Neither did I.

Frank Hogan (better known as John 3:7) had taken up residence in front of me and raised his ubiquitous sign just as Butler pulled the trigger and even now, 9 years on, I’ve never thanked him for the gesture. Granted he didn’t mean it but in robbing me of my view he lent me a vision (granted, an imagined vision) of a goal the power, accuracy and majesty of which I have yet to see matched. It stands as the greatest goal I never saw, its greatness measured in goosebumps.

My Father (a less magnanimous soul) reacted to the obstruction by seizing it, throwing it to the ground, making some very graphic threats about where he’d be inclined to insert it should there be a repeat of Mr. Hogan’s antics, and for that reason it’s hardly surprising that our view of the remaining hour’s action went unobstructed.

We saw points and wides exchanged in equal measure. We saw the inevitable Rebel comeback. We saw character tested beyond conventional limits. We saw everything that makes the Munster Championship stand unrivalled in sport and in the end we saw the titanic struggle resolved in masterful terms by a man who decreed that this was to be his finest hour.

Step forward Barry Foley. A sideline cut from under the stand on any other day would have been aimed infield. On any other day. That day history beckoned. That day was special. That day Foley rifled it over when nobody thought that he would.

Cue green-clad raptures on the terraces, cue the final whistle and cue joy and confusion distilled into the realisation that we’d come to Cork and won. 1-16 to 1-15 in their backyard and as Seán South rang out on the long walk into town I could feel the goosebumps crawling up my spine like never before or since.

Halfway home, satisfaction etched on his face, I asked the seasoned campaigner what made us stand through the dark days for moments like that. Half a century of championship Sundays smiled again and said as though reciting a mantra: “Optimism”.

By Kate Rowan

Any rugby fan will be used to the procedure as two packs get ready to scrumage of the referee’s call “crouch, touch, pause, engage”. This got me thinking about four matches over the past month; Leinster’s win against Edinburgh and Ireland’s first three Autumn internationals. It was as if each game was represented by one of the stages in forming a scrum.

Crouch
Leinster versus Edinburgh
The first game; the crouch or the preparation was a gutsy Leinster narrowly defeating their bogey team Edinburgh. This did not just get me in the mood for the Autumn series to come but it allowed spectators to see some of the stars of future international games.
There may have been an absence of big name players called up on international duty but that by no means dampened the spirits of the D4fortress faithful on the eve of Halloween and the crowd created a great atmosphere that helped up and coming stars such as winger Andrew Conway and out half Ian Madigan shine alongside Leinster stalwarts such as Shane Horgan.
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Leinster’s sole try scorer of the night 19 year old Conway had the look of a star in the making, coltishly running, his socks pulled down around electric blue boots.

After the match coach Joe Schmidt reminded us that it is still early days in the youngster’s career explaining, “he is an exciting raw talent but has some edges that need moulding.”

Laughter filled the room when Schmidt told the press the winger is “still 20” and then one journo chipped in “Conway is 19!” Schmidt chuckled “He is only 19, it is me that is getting older then!”
He is proud of the team mentality “we had some of the internationals involved tonight, Sexton was running water making sure his knowledge and experience was getting to Madigan, our squad ethos is all about helping each other out.”

Touch
Ireland versus South Africa
It was hoped that the Aviva’s first touch with international rugby would be a repeat of last year’s defeat of South Africa. Despite the anticipation this was not to be with the home side just falling two points short.

Both the conditions and the intensity were given as factors in the defeat. Brian O’Driscoll described the ball as being like “a bar of soap”.

I could not help but notice how the atmosphere shifted from relatively sombre to electric towards the end of the game. O’Driscoll explained this “the first 60 minutes were difficult for fans to watch but once we started playing a bit the crowd got behind us. It is our responsibility to get the crowd going.”

Journalists are just as keen to get involved in a scrum as any prop, lock, hooker, flanker or number eight. My first mixed zone experience was quite surreal, I suddenly found myself cast beneath the shadow of Munster lock Donnacha O’Callaghan and I had my chance to reach up a considerable distance with my dictaphone.

He had few airs and graces about him visibly disheartened by the loss “It is disappointing anytime you lose but we didn’t make them hurt enough.”

O’Callaghan was also the perfect man to comment on one of Ireland’s greatest difficulties against the Springboks; weak line outs “Rory (Best) said it was like he was looking at three or four Victor Matfields.”

The lock played tribute to fellow Munster man O’Gara on receiving his 100th cap. “ I have two Heineken Cup medals and a Grand Slam and that is on the hard work Rog.”

 There were some giggles when O’Callaghan was asked on what he thought of the game over all “I’ll have to watch a video because I spent half of the game with my head between asses pushing and dragging!”

Towards the end of the interview his frustration at the loss was apparent again “it was our first game in the Aviva you want to make it a fortress and you feel embarrassed that you lose.”

Pause
Ireland versus Samoa
After a disappointing first outing in the Aviva would Ireland’s hope collapse like a dodgy scrum? With no disrespect to Samoa, Kidney and company would have time to regroup, take time to pause and use the game as a chance to change Ireland’s ways back to winning.
One of the hot topics was the inclusion in the starting team of six foot ten Devin Toner. The Leinster lock who plays his club rugby for Lansdowne was seen to many as being partly responsible in restoring strength to the Irish line outs and when was hoisted into the air by John Hayes was described as “being like the Eiffel Tower” by the ebullient George Hook.

He seemed rather relieved but was delighted with his first cap saying “It was just an amazing feeling to be coming out of the team hotel and see all the crowds and it was unbelievable singing the anthems.”

The atmosphere after a victory really contrasted with that of the week before. Trinity graduate Jamie Heaslip was in flying form bantering with the reporters over the moustache he had grown for the Movember charity campaign. He said he had been getting fashion “inspiration from Mad Men.”

It was interesting to compare the Kildare man’s delight and his attitude that he wouldn’t yet start to think about the clash with the All Blacks with Luke Fitzgerald. He was also bubbling with energy but was thinking more ahead about the All Blacks “you always have to take your game up a notch when you play against quality like them. New Zealand have been the best in the world, for I don’t know how long, everyone is really excited about the game next week.”

Engage
Ireland versus New Zealand
Fitzgerald was right, there was a fantastic excitement building-up to the game. This would the height of the engagement of the series.

There was something spiritual about the Haka, it seemed to be more than just a war dance and had the feel of a prayer.

The atmosphere improved as the Irish started to show the spark that had been eluding them. In the press box, the journalists tend to stay neutral and don’t show their emotions too often but I was not the only one who lost their composure when O’Driscoll scored the first try.

Things were looking good, however, it proved too much and the opposition showed their class winning by a flattering 20 points considering.

The buzz extended into the press conference with coach Graham Henry and captain Richie McCaw. The flanker looked relaxed as he ambled barefoot into the room. He had an aura of charisma that marked him out as a world-beater but neither came across as smug in their victory.

Henry remarked “about a year ago we were worried about the Irish but they have fallen into a bit of a gully but they gave us a tough game and they should take a lot from it.”

Ireland may not be have gotten the results they desire but hopefully they can build on a valiant effort against New Zealand. The players may now have the fireto pull out a special performance against Argentina in the final test.

By Kate Rowan

Obviously, I watch too much Sky Sports News. I had not realised this until I entered the Leinster Rugby media room in the RDS last April before a Magners League clash against the Ospreys. I had been lucky enough to gain media accreditation representing Trinity News. I had pictured there would be lots of uber-glam Georgie Thompson-style ladies and also men in tight-fitting, shiny suits. I learned that this was the world of broadcast journalism, whereas print sports journalists are a completely different breed.

I had, in my naivety, turned up with a rather cumbersome diamanté-adorned Juicy Couture handbag, sporting Ugg boots and a lot of pink. All the other journalists were male and were rather understated in their dress, so I was inclined to feel like a fish out of water. I really was there to look at the line-outs, rucks, scrums, tries and conversions but I had a distinct feeling from the odd glances I garnered from my counterparts that they may have thought I was more interested in having a bit of a girly giggle at some of the hunky players.

I was a bit intimidated by the journos and all their talk of complicated travel arrangements to the Heineken Cup semi-finals. The highlight of that game for me was an amazing run by Isa Nacewa to ultimately score a try. Leinster won that game 20 points to 16. Unfortunately the result was reversed in the Magners League Grand Final in the same venue just over a month later.

It was back in May that the head coach, Michael Cheika, bid farewell to the D4tress upon his move to Stade Français. He deserves some credit for adding a bit of fashion flair at my first press conference: he was sporting a most flamboyant ruffled scarf. He exuded charisma and I was very impressed with the ease with which he answered questions as he sat perched on the edge of a table.

My next journey to the press box was for Leinster’s first home game of this season against the Cardiff Blues who turned up on the evening in a very fetching shade of pink. I had been wondering how Cheika’s successor, Joe Schmidt, a former school head-master, would compare, after the Australian transformed Leinster’s underachieving but talented team with a “ladyboys” image into Heineken Cup champions.

The Kiwi certainly orchestrated a most entertaining game despite a few hairy moments. Most who were present in the RDS would have been a bit worried after giving away a lead and losing to Glasgow at Firhill the previous week. The Cardiff Blues game was tough-fought with Leinster winning by 34 points to 23.

As well as being a thrilling spectacle with action moving quickly between each end of the pitch, it was a great opportunity to witness the cohesion between Leinster’s more established names and their young blood. During the warm up, first-choice out-half Jonathan Sexton tore a groin muscle (sadly the banner “Sexton’s On Fire!” seemed a little incongruous) and it fell to 21-year-old Ian Madigan to fill his boots. It could have been seen as a blessing in disguise as Madigan seemed to relish the challenge and scored the game’s final try, securing a precious bonus point for Leinster.

In the post-match press conference Schmidt’s presence was full of twinkly-eyed charisma. He explained he felt “very nervy” at hearing the news of Sexton’s injury but “Madigan was not a bit nervous, he was just dying to get out there!” He praised some of the more senior players such as Nacewa who “had really supported the young guys”.

It seems that Schmidt, who built his reputation managing the New Zealand schools team for four years, is taking his experience of nurturing youthful talent and is bringing it with zeal to Leinster. Since those days he has been an assistant coach under fellow countryman Vern Cotter, first at Bay of Plenty and then in Clermont.

A few questions were fielded at him about the transition from being a number two but he batted this off with a laugh. “I do feel like the guillotine is going to fall on me but it was always the same at Clermont, it doesn’t matter for me whether you are the number one or two, you live and die for the rugby.”

As Schmidt was energetically exiting I made the mistake of ambling along too slowly and as result blocked his way and out of sheer clumsiness almost elbowed him. I nearly jumped out of my skin with mortification gushing “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” The Kiwi remained calm smiling “It was all my fault!” A gentleman to top it all off – I am impressed!

The seasoned journos started to crowd around again and in walked the night’s captain and the first try’s scorer, 29-year-old flanker Shane Jennings. The Rathfarnham native had a softspoken intensity about him and was also happy to praise the young talent. He seemed relieved with the result: “I don’t care if we only win by one point, we got off to a disappointing start to the season and we needed a win”. He was self-effacing when asked about his try, laughing, “God, I hadn’t scored in donkeys’, it was like I couldn’t catch a cold and then I just missed a second one tonight!”

I must confess I once again lost my rugby correspondent hat when I suddenly smelt a most fragrant yet spicy aroma in the media room and I thought, “Ooh, that’s lovely aftershave, I wonder what it is? Is it Shane Jennings’ or one of the journalists’?” Sometimes no matter how hard I try to keep thinking in technical terms about sport I can’t get away from being a girl!

By Daniel O’Callaghan

On 13 September, Rafael Nadal Parera became only the seventh player in tennis history to have won all four of the sport’s major tournaments by winning the US Open. At the end of a comprehensive victory over Novak Djokovic, Nadal fell to the ground on the Arthur Ashe centre court as a capacity crowd stood to applaud the Spaniard’s momentous feat. The tennis Nadal played during his two weeks in Flushing Meadows was arguably the best of his career. The first and only set that he dropped in the tournament was in the final. His opponent in the final, Djokovic, had earlier in the tournament knocked out Roger Federer and was producing excellent performances but was powerless to do anything more than watch as Nadal neared perfection. His first unforced error in the final set of the tournament did not come until the seventh game as he completed his lifelong goal in a typically ruthless fashion.

A year earlier the world of tennis was celebrating the achievements of another modern great as Roger Federer completed his career slam by finally winning the French Open. Federer also surpassed the great Pete Sampras by claiming his record breaking fifteenth major at Wimbledon. The media reaction following his achievements proclaimed him as the best player to have ever played the game, the tag line which some have now bestowed on Rafael Nadal. The long running competitive rivalry between Nadal and Federer has now moved onto a new level. The 24-year-old Spaniard and the 29-yearold Swiss are no longer battling for just titles; they are competing to be remembered as the greatest tennis player of all time.

Rivalries in sport are embedded in and created by its own essence, competition. A sporting rivalry is a sustained period of time when the career paths of two athletes cross, each driven by success. Great rivalries are often defined by the characteristics of each man. Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier rivalled each other for the world heavyweight crown, a battle which started with the “Fight of the Century” and ended with the “Thrilla in Manila”. The rivalry between the two men was personal with each man giving and receiving slurs. Ali famously said of the “Thrilla in Manila” fight, “It will be a killa… and a chilla… and a thrilla… when I get the gorilla in Manila.” The quip was typical of Ali’s character as an entertainer who built himself up while disregarding his opponent. This went on to define their rivalry as one that lacked respect and there was a genuine dislike between the two men. The Nadal-Federer rivalry, however, is based on a mutual respect. There have been many great sporting duels in the past with a similarly shared respect, such as Arnold Palmer’s rivalry with Jack Nicklaus and Björn Borg versus John McEnroe. The Nadal-Federer rivalry has now reached a new level, putting it alongside these greats.

The two met first in the third round of the Miami Masters in 2004. Federer had won his first two majors and, at the age of 22, was already the number one player in tennis. Nadal, then a 17-year-old unknown quantity, produced a shock result to beat Federer in straight sets. Since then the two men have dominated tennis. From Wimbledon in 2004 to the 2010 US Open at least one of the pair appeared in 24 of the 26 Grand Slams finals, winning 23 of them.

A fascinating component of their duels is the clash of styles between the two players. Federer stands out as a throwback to classic tennis, a game played through craft, skill and elegance, while Nadal is almost like a prototype from the future of the game. The extent of their competition is truly magnified when one imagines what Rafa or Roger could have won if the other had not been around. Federer has amassed 16 Grand Slams by the age of 29. Nadal has just won his ninth slam at the age of 24. The race to catch Federer will be a long one for Nadal. Whoever finishes their career with the most slams will surely go down as the greatest tennis player of all time, but who will it be?

Nadal’s recently defeated opponent Novak Djokovic believes the Spaniard is well placed to win out, “He has the capabilities already now to become the best player ever. I think he’s playing the best tennis that I ever seen him play”. Nadal is already ahead, having won more titles than him at the same age, as well as an Olympic gold medal. He also has a winning record against Federer (14-7). However, to be considered the greatest of all time you need consistency and longevity; Roger Federer has undoubtedly shown these qualities. Critics now say that he will find it increasingly difficult to add to his tally of titles but Federer has undoubted mental strength and has the ability to reach his magical best again.

As spectators we can only hope to witness tennis like that played in the famous 2008 Wimbledon final, widely regarded as the greatest match of all time. If Nadal can stay fit (he has suffered from knee tendonitis in the past) and Roger can defy critics and reach top form again then the race to greatness is going to be a photo finish.